8
Bar Chaos
The demon's mark on my inner thigh had been glowing for three hours straight.
It wasn't my fault. Not entirely. The problem was proximity—specifically, the proximity of three supernatural predators who had decided, apparently without consulting me, that I wasn't allowed to leave the manor without an armed escort. And by "armed escort," I meant Lucien's knives, Darius's glares, and Azrael's unsettling ability to appear directly behind anyone who looked at me for more than two seconds.
I was going stir-crazy. The manor was beautiful and luxurious and filled with more magical artifacts than a fantasy novel, but I'd been living there for over a week without setting foot outside the grounds. I needed to see other people. Breathe different air. Remember that a world existed beyond Gothic architecture and supernatural mafia politics.
"I want to go out," I announced at breakfast, slathering jam on a croissant with perhaps more aggression than strictly necessary. "To a bar. A normal bar. With normal people."
Four pairs of eyes fixed on me with varying degrees of concern.
"That's a terrible idea," Lucien said flatly. He was sharpening one of his knives at the table—a habit that would have been alarming if I hadn't grown weirdly accustomed to it. "You're a target now. Anyone who wants leverage against us will see you as the weak link."
"I'm not a weak link. I'm a chaos agent."
"That's worse."
Selene laughed, reaching over to steal a piece of my croissant. "I think it's a wonderful idea. Lizzie deserves a night out. And there's a place in the supernatural district—The Twilight Dive. It caters to all sorts, human and otherwise. She'll be safe there."
"Safe," Darius repeated, his silver eyes narrowing. "In a bar full of vampires, werewolves, and witches."
"Safer than a human bar," Selene countered. "At least there, everyone knows who we are. No one would dare touch her."
I perked up. "The supernatural district? That's a real thing?"
"Hidden in plain sight." Azrael's voice was soft, his golden eyes warm as they met mine. Since our night together, he'd been different—more present, less prone to disappearing into shadows. The shrine was gone, replaced by a small shelf in his room that held a single pressed flower I'd given him and the charcoal sketch of my face. It was still worship, but it was healthier worship. "Nestled between the mortal world and the spaces between. Humans walk past it every day without seeing."
"I want to see it." I looked around the table, meeting each of their gazes in turn. "I've been stuck in this manor since I arrived. I need to remember that I'm a person, not just a... a possession you're keeping safe."
Something flickered in Darius's expression—guilt, maybe, or understanding. He exchanged a glance with Lucien, then Azrael, then Selene.
"Fine," he said finally. "But you stay close. You don't wander off. And if anyone approaches you—"
"I'll let you intimidate them into oblivion," I finished. "Deal."
The Twilight Dive was everything I'd hoped for and nothing I'd expected.
It sat on a street that shouldn't have existed, tucked between a pawn shop and a boarded-up theater in a part of the city I'd driven past a hundred times without noticing. The entrance was marked by a single neon sign—a crescent moon pierced by an arrow, flickering in shades of purple and blue. Inside, the space opened up into something far larger than the exterior suggested, a sprawling bar lit by floating orbs of colored light and filled with creatures that made my human brain stutter.
A woman with antlers branching from her temples laughed at a corner table, her fingers trailing sparks. A man whose skin rippled with shifting tattoos—or were those actual shadows moving beneath his flesh?—nursed a drink at the bar. Two figures who might have been twins sat in a booth, their eyes solid black from lid to lid, their smiles too wide for human faces. And everywhere, everywhere, there was the hum of magic—low and constant, like the bass line of a song I couldn't quite hear.
"This is incredible," I breathed, gripping Darius's arm. He'd dressed down for the occasion—black trousers, a fitted black shirt, no cloak—but he still radiated an authority thatmade the crowd part around us like water around a stone. "Why didn't you bring me here sooner?"
"Because it's dangerous," Lucien growled from my other side. He was wearing his usual black jeans and leather jacket, his knives hidden but accessible. His amber eyes scanned the room constantly, cataloging threats. "Half the people in here would sell you to the highest bidder if they thought they could get away with it."
"But they won't," Azrael said softly, appearing at my shoulder. He'd been a shadow since we entered, his presence subtle but unmistakable. "Because they know who we are."
Selene led the way to a booth near the back, one with a clear view of the entrance and easy access to the emergency exit. Paranoid habits, I was learning, were deeply ingrained in supernatural criminals. I slid into the center of the curved seat, and the others arranged themselves around me like a living wall—Darius on my left, Lucien on my right, Azrael across from me, Selene perched at the end with a clear view of the room.
A waitress appeared—a vampire with neon green hair and eyes that reflected the floating lights like mirrors. She took our orders without flinching at the company, which suggested either professional composure or a complete lack of survival instincts. I ordered something pink and sparkling. The men ordered whiskey. Selene requested a cocktail with ingredients I didn't recognize and probably couldn't pronounce.
"So," I said, looking around the table. "This is nice. Normal. Four supernatural criminals and their human... whatever I am, having drinks like regular people."
"You're not a whatever," Darius said, his voice low. "You're ours."
The possessive made my stomach flip. I hid my reaction behind my drink, which arrived moments later in a tall glass rimmed with something that sparkled like crushed gemstones.It tasted like strawberries and lightning—sweet and sharp and electric.
